


Vulnerable

by ohmarqueliot



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feelings, M/M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, eliot and margo have some feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 09:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16658840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmarqueliot/pseuds/ohmarqueliot
Summary: Eliot and Margo have some introspection while watching Quentin practice a new spell.





	Vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

> I had a swell of feelings and then this happened. Set during a random "everyone and everything is happy" timeline.

Taking a slow draw from his cigarette, Eliot slid his free arm around Margo’s waist. She was a warm, familiar weight against him, sitting between his legs with her back against his middle and her head high on his chest as they reclined together in the window seat of the cottage.

It had been a while since either of them had spoken, but the quiet was nice. Quentin was standing on the other side of the room with Julia, and they were trying to crack levitation. It was a little beyond their current lesson plan but Julia had read ahead, because of course she had, and they'd spent the afternoon trying to figure it out.

Quentin's frustration when Julia had gotten it a few minutes ago was still written on his face, but it had morphed into more concentration and determination than anything else. Eliot hoped he figured it out soon before the poor kid had an aneurysm.

Breathing out the smoke in a slow, lazy sigh, he lifted his eyebrow when Margo reached back to take the cigarette from his hand. Taking a long draw, she tilted her head back and blew the smoke into the air above them. Her eyes were closed, her features smooth, and he regarded her curiously. She doesn't smoke often, and he wondered what had her in the mood now. He didn’t question it - she’d tell him in her own time or not at all.

She passed the cigarette back to him before settling her hand lightly on his arm. Her head turned back to the side, and he followed her gaze to watch Quentin as his hands moved from one Popper to the next, his lips moving quickly as he chanted the Slavic incantation. “El?” she said after a few minutes, her voice quiet and thoughtful.

“Hmm?”

“I think I'm in love with him.”

She doesn't tense, doesn't close up, was as outwardly relaxed as she had been the whole time and he… was not surprised. And that, maybe, surprised him more than anything else. He was pretty sure she wasn’t putting on a show for his benefit - she’d know that he’d understand her nerves if she showed them to him. He wondered how long she’d been holding onto that or whether she’d only realised just now. Flattening his hand on her stomach, he let his thumb stroke her skin gently through the thin material of her blouse. “Have you told him?”

Margo scoffed, slipping her hand back to thread their fingers together. “Seriously? He'd either freak out because he doesn't think he deserves to be loved or doesn't believe me yada yada yada, or he'll express his undying love to me and start being mushy all the time.”

He didn't want to point out that she was already doing the first one because she was afraid of the second. She knew.

Quentin failed at the spell again, and together they watched as Julia talked him through everything she’d done to get it right as though she hadn’t only just figured it out herself. Eliot considered stepping in and pointing out exactly what he was getting wrong, but he and Margo had vowed not to intervene when they’d not bothered to ask for their help to start with. “You should tell him,” he said quietly after a few minutes.

He felt as much as heard her sigh. “I know.”

He’d known from the start that things were different with Quentin. He and Margo had shared partners before but rarely friends, and rarely the same person more than once. Neither of them were great with the openness of feelings that went with a relationship, but somehow they’d basically fallen into one with this awkward, nerdy, thoroughly delightful first year. The sex was fantastic – getting to absolutely wreck the poor boy on a regular basis would never get old, and Quentin could definitely hold his own in the fucking them up department too – but it was more than that, and they were still figuring out how to handle it.

Or rather, still coming to terms with the fact that it wasn’t as scary a thing as they’d imagined. Not with the right person, anyway.

The fear still reared its ugly head sometimes, too deep to be completely lulled by Quentin’s obvious desire and affection for the two of them. The thought of making himself vulnerable to someone, of opening his heart all the way, of complicating his friendship with Margo… It was all unchartered territory for him.

Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the floor beside them, he pulled another one from the case and held it between his lips, lighting it with a well-practiced twirl and snap of his fingers. As he exhaled heavily, Margo freed her hand and turned around to look at him, setting her arms on either side of him with her body twisted at the waist. Her eyes were too serious for her smile to be a smirk. “You should tell him, too.”

And there it was. Grimacing at her, he took a deep inhale, letting the nicotine and the familiar burn of the smoke in his lungs calm him. “I know.”

An excited shout from the other side of the room drew their attention, and they both looked up to see Quentin floating about a foot in the air with Julia standing beside him, cheering him on. His arms were thrown wide to keep himself steady, and he grinned at them with such delight that Eliot’s heart swelled with an impossible amount of affection.

And yet there it was, strong and true within him.

Margo turned back around to settle against him once more, bringing her fingers to her mouth to let out an appreciative wolf whistle as Eliot reached around her to clap his hands lightly, careful not to ash on her as he did so. Quentin’s smile widened, and when Eliot settled his arm around Margo’s waist again his grip was tighter, taking and giving a little bit of the strength that they both needed.

A second later Quentin jerked a little higher, and the alarmed look on his face made Eliot stiffen with worry, but after a little wobble he seemed to steady himself again. His brow was still furrowed with concentration, and his surprised laugh warmed Eliot so much, too much.

He didn’t like being vulnerable. Margo was the only person he's trusted with his heart in a long time, and even with her they tended to decorate their deepest feelings with sarcasm and wit and nonchalance. He wanted to bury his head in the sand and pretend it wasn't happening.

He wanted to jump in head first and fuck the consequences.

And it wasn’t like it wasn't obvious that Quentin was completely and utterly head over heels for them both.

Quentin lowered himself onto the ground again, and Eliot finally let himself relax. Margo’s hand, smoothing up and down the back of his forearm, was entirely too knowing, but he appreciated it just the same. Quentin high-fived Julia before pulling her into a hug. He said something to her, too quiet for them to hear from their side of the room, and when they pulled away Julia reached for her bag. “See you guys tonight,” she called to them as she headed for the door.

Once she was gone, Quentin walked over to them and sank down onto the floor beside the window seat, leaning his head back against his hip and Margo’s side. Putting out his cigarette in the ashtray, he dropped his hand onto his shoulder, brushing his fingers against the bare skin above his collar. “You did good, kid.”

The way Quentin leaned into the touch made him want him closer. “You could have helped me,” he said, but there was no heat in his words, just a touch of playful whininess, and when he turned his head to look up at him he was smiling.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Margo asked, reaching down to play with his hair, and Eliot knew that they had to move. Their position and the window seat were both great options for two, but they both wanted more contact with Quentin that that allowed. Apparently Margo was thinking the same thing. “El, baby, why don’t you make us some celebratory drinks and we’ll move to the couch?”

“I like your style,” he said, tapping her side to indicate that she should get up. Grabbing Quentin's arm to pull him to his feet, she led him over to the couch while Eliot headed for the bar.

When he returned just a few minutes later, she was reclining on the couch with her legs over Quentin’s, and Eliot smiled at the sight. Setting the drink tray on the table in easy reach, he sat beside Quentin, passing out the cocktails and then slinging his arm around Quentin’s shoulder. Margo adjusted so her legs rested over his as well, and he revelled in the comfort of their warmth against him. His arm tightened around Quentin’s shoulders and when he didn’t hesitate before leaning into him more fully, Eliot pressed a kiss to the side of his head. This. This was easy. This was everything he needed. 

This – right here, with two people who he loved – wasn’t scary at all.


End file.
